


Odd Hours

by Foreversfangirl



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Coparenting, F/M, Foundling, Gentle Din, Hurt/Comfort, Jedi, Mutual Pining, Now What?, Pining, Reader-Insert, Season 2, Spoilers, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28301541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foreversfangirl/pseuds/Foreversfangirl
Summary: Your routine is thrown off by the absence of your son. And you begin to consider options for the future
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 117





	Odd Hours

Your eyes snap open. Your limbs move to clamber out of the blanket. This in itself if not abnormal. The baby usually woke up at least twice a night. Usually he just needed to be rocked for a few minutes or have a little sip of water before falling back to sleep. But as you disengaged from your bedding something was off. The blanket was thinner, and scratchier than yours. The space you found yourself in was too open. And it was quiet. The sounds of the child calling out for you didn’t echo through the space... because he was there. This was not your bunk, not your blanket, not your ship. This realization sunk in, as your reacquainted yourself with the bunk room of the ship Slave I. 

The room is dark, but you can just make out the other double bunk across from the one you were now sitting on. The only sounds coming from the hum of the ship, not unlike the Razor Crest used to, and someone’s soft breathing. You know without checking, those tiny snores belong to Din. He’s laying beside you on his back, one arm behind his head and the other on his chest. 

Your stomach twists, feelings of guilt, shame, emptiness creep up on you. Suddenly the darkness feels invasive, the gentle warmth of the room is stifling. You bend down, to pull on your boots, never being one to roam about a ship without proper foot protection. 

You slip out of the bunk room, and hope Din won’t notice your absence. He normally didn’t when you got up to put the baby back to sleep. Only a handful of times, when the poor thing cried louder or longer than usual. But there were no cries to wake him now. 

You found yourself in the cargo hold, sitting on a cargo crate, leaning against the cool durasteel wall. Normally when you got up at night to tend to the baby, you’d tumble right back into bed and pass out. But tonight you could not fathom the idea of laying back down to sleep. Your mind wandered to the farthest reaches of the galaxy, to your little boy. Green and wrinkled and perfect. It really was the best thing for him to be with someone that could properly train him. He could hurt himself, or someone else if wasn’t trained. The power he possessed, could be dangerous if he was ever to lash out in anger or fear. But still you could help but think, no one, not even a Jedi, could love him as much as you and Din. 

Would the Jedi wake up, and cradle him at night? Or know his favorite food is not the frogs he delighted in chasing, but steamed potatoes. The tiny ones, that fit in his little mouth without needing to be cut. Would this Jedi tell him about the Mandalorian culture he was adopted into and what it means? This Jedi had said he would lay down his life to protect your boy, but would he show that in the day to day? Would this child feel loved... appreciated... valued for more than just his ability to wield power? 

Oh what you wouldn’t give to hear him cry right now. Wailing and screaming. Or hear his soft vocalizations, either a language you can’t understand or the incoherent babbling of a child. The way he makes a mess, no matter what he’s eating. Or claps his hands to show his enthusiasm. All little sounds that filled your life. You hoped this Jedi would take notice of these things. See why your boy was special. 

You mind wandered another direction. Now what? This ship was heading for Nevarro. Moff Gideon needed to be turned in for questioning. Cara needed to get back to work. You assumed your gracious host, Boba Fett and his partner Fennec, would part ways with you on Nevarro. The debt was paid, and they probably had their own agenda to get back to. Still you were grateful for the help they had given you thus far. 

The closer the ship got to Nevarro, the closer you were to the biggest crossroad of your life. You can’t turn back, the child and The Razor Crest are gone. There are only forward paths. Stay with Din, formulate a plan together of what to do now. Or go your separate ways. You had been hired to care for the child. And you did, right up until the end. Still do, even from billions of miles away. Over time, your relationship with the Mandalorian had grown into something. You looked out for each other, tried to anticipate the others needs, comforted each other. You had tended to his injuries, he had saved your life more times than you care to admit, and just once enjoyed the warmth of his lips on your own. But that was hardly a true partnership. These actions were still wordless, nameless, faceless in their existence. 

It is possible that those things were temporary... situational at best. Yet, he did sleep beside each night, comforted you in your despair at losing the child initially, and had never mentioned parting ways before. Still, he had never vocalized any sort of plans or inclinations for the future, and you did not want to simply assume you would be part of it. 

You pondered your options. Stay on Nevarro. It was a safe place to be now. Try to find transportation back to the world you were living on before joining Din... or back to Tatooine. You’re sure Peli could use an extra pair of hands around the shop. Or maybe you could hitch a ride with Boba and Fennec, and have them drop you off at their next stop and you could start over from scratch. 

Somehow none of those options really made you feel hopeful for a bright future, despite all of them being good options for you. Footsteps coming down into the cargo hold drew your attention back to the present. You were surprised to see Boba coming towards you. 

“Am I in your way?” you ask, as you hopped down to allow him access to the cargo crate you were sitting on. 

“Not at all,” he replied opening a different crate. 

“Thought you would be resting after the day you’ve had” he says, clearly inviting an explanation. 

“Too used to waking up at odd hours to take care of the baby” you shrugged “can’t seem to quite my mind enough to sleep” 

“The kid is lucky,” he says as he continues to dig around in the crate. 

His words catch you off guard “Why do you say that?” 

“This child is barely able to walk on his own, is unable to verbally communicate, and causes trouble wherever he goes” you’re almost offended by his words, your mouth hangs open in shock “but he has an entire squadron of people prepare to burn cities to the ground for the chance to protect him and raise him well” 

You close your mouth and stair at the older Mandalorian. He turns to face you, and continues speaking. 

“That child is lucky to have parents that love him the way the two of you do,” 

Your heart softens at that. These are the things he has observed about you, and Din, since meeting you just a few days ago. But it doesn’t change the fact that he was no longer in your care, and decisions still had to be made. 

“He is lucky,” you agree “I only wish that we were raising him ourselves instead of having to blindly trust a stranger to do it” 

“You said it yourself,” he responds “you’ll see him again. Training in any skill does not last forever” 

“True,” you pause a long moment “only, I don’t know if we’ll ever be all together again” 

“And why is that?” He’s abandoned the crate entirely, favoring this conversation over finding whatever it was he was looking for. 

“The child is his foundling. I was hired to do a job. The job is over now. I don’t know that I have a place with him anymore” 

You’re surprised to find he’s laughing. You frown at his response. This was hardly a funny situation for you. 

“Are you truly so blind little one,” he asks through his chuckles

“Clearly I must be, because I fail to see how this is funny,” you snap at him. You want to draw away from the older Mandalorian, preferring the solitude you were enjoying before he joined you. 

“You don’t have a place anywhere, except by his side” he says “you’ll see” he pats your shoulder and leaves the cargo hold, not even bothering with whatever he had originally been searching for in the crate. 

You sit back on the original crate you had been sitting on, now irritated and upset. Boba had only known you for about a week at most. He may have been right about the child being lucky and loved. But he didn’t know anything about you and Din. Maybe he really was trying to make you feel better, but all he succeeded in doing was limiting your options for what to do next. 

Like hell I’d ask him for a ride to another system now you thought 

“Are you alright?” Another voice snaps you out of your stewing. This time it’s Din coming towards you. 

“I’m fine,” you try to wave him off a little too quickly, not wanting to explain the conversation you just hard, or it’s implications. Still he comes over to you, he knows you’re lying. He stands at the edge of the crate you sit on, putting you at eye level with his dark visor. He places a warm hand on your knee, but doesn’t say anything. 

You relent to tell him at least one thing on your mind, if only to break this endless silence. “I woke up to take care of the baby” you say. You had intended to continue, but found your voice caught in your throat. His hand shifts slightly, rubbing small circles with his thumb. 

“It hated it when I first started,” you continue despite yourself “I felt like I could never get enough sleep, waking up two or three times every night. But, I guess I just got so used to it. I wake up, feeling this overwhelming need to hold him in my arms...” 

You stop yourself, because you don’t want to cry. He remains silent, but continues rubbing soothing circles into the side of your knee. He tilts his helmet ever so slightly, urging you to continue. And you can feel your chest tightening, the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. 

“I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t even remember what I was going to do with my life before I came with you. I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore,” his hand stalls. He’s taken a little aback by your words, but he picks it back up. 

“I don’t know who I am anymore either,” he says. Suddenly you feel incredibly stupid for saying that to him, given what he’s just been through with his son and his creed. 

“I’m sorry,” you try to get it out in a more full voice, but you can only manage a whisper and the tears fall down your cheeks. His hand leaves your knee, and comes up to your cheek brushing away a tear. 

“Who do you want to be?” He asks

What a question. Who do you want to be? Not where will you go or what will you do? But who. Who do you want to be. You know who you want to be. You want to be his. His to take with him wherever he may go. His to watch his back, patch him up when he’s injured, comfort him when he hurts, and love him. But you can’t bring yourself to ask for that, so you lie, again. 

“I don’t know,” you shut your eyes and lean into his touch. 

You may not know, but he does. With his free hand, he reaches up to his helmet, and removes it with a soft click and a hiss. He sets it down on the crate next to you. You heart skips a beat. True you had seen his face, just a few days ago, this was different. The first time was not for you. It was for his son. A final act of fatherly love, for him to take with him wherever he may go. But this... this was for you. You opened your eyes, meeting his and finding them warm and inviting. 

“Whatever come next,” he says “I want you right there with me” his hand finds yours, and brings it to rest against his chest. You heave a short breath, squeezing your eyes shut again, and leaning forward to touch your forehead to his. You can’t help the smile spreading on your face, and the breathy laugh escaping your lips. 

“Damn him for being right,” you chuckled with a shake of your head 

“Who?” He asks 

“I’ll tell you later,” you say, pulling him in to kiss his cheek.


End file.
